Wasted Appointment
by toadstoolcouch
Summary: Fredo rarely gets to see his brother anymore, and finally when he gets a chance, Michael wastes time getting on his case about something, rather than get to what Fredo was hoping for.  Slash, incest.


"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the younger brother chastised, his fingers tight on the other's arm. "How many is this now?"

The older sibling, the one that should have been enjoying seniority over the other, looked away in embarrassment. Not remorse, not shame for what he did, but pure humiliation that his "incident" was discovered by Michael. Now he'd have to deal with it. Michael would never mention it again; he was good at keeping mum about any number of subjects. But he would always know.

"Just give it a fucking rest," Fredo hissed, but kept his tone level. The evening had been going so well. Well enough, anyway. He might have overslept and missed his last appointment with Michael (Fredo couldn't believe he had to make an appointment to see his own brother), but this was something out of the blue. Both men were free for a few hours, or at least could afford to hide for a while. Not even Al Neri knew where Michael was right now.

Michael grit his teeth and laid a hand flat against his brother's cheek. It would have been a soft, warm gesture, if not for the look in his eyes. "You're putting me in a really tough situation, Fredo, murdering your boyfriends-"

"Jesus Christ!" Fredo growled, shaking his head. He wanted to pull away, remove himself from this entirely wrong and shameful situation, but he loved the warmth of his brother's body seeping into his own. This wasn't any different than when he indulged in his desires with strange men. They were the perverts, not him. They were the fruits. But Fredo...every man has a vice or three.

Michael didn't exactly smile, but he stared back at Fredo with mirthless satisfaction. He knew what Fredo meant, even though his brother never discussed any of this with him. There they were, pressing together, a pair of tuxedos laid out on the couch for them when they were done and ready to resume their normal lives, and still Fredo couldn't even admit that he'd done anything with another man except beat him to death.

In any case, there wasn't time to fight about it, Michael decided. He'd take care of this, just like he took care of everything, and his older brother would only be too grateful to step aside and let the younger clean up his mess. Just as he let Micheal turn his face back stare into his eyes, neither of them speaking, but an entire conversation playing out through subtle changes in facial expression. Michael tilting his head forward in finality, a corner of his mouth lifting slightly in what little warmth he was prepared to give that night, and Fredo answered with visible, physical relief, a wealth of gratitude brimming in his eyes, but never finding its way to words.

When he felt his brother's hand push on the back of his neck, pulling him closer, Fredo obediently and eagerly leaned down to accept Michael's kiss, pressing even closer against him, his cock pressed into Michael's belly. But then again, the size difference was only an issue when they were standing, and Michael never seemed to even notice.

And on his knees, Fredo's height could be even further ignored. He was just getting ready to thank his brother for promising to help him when there was a knock at the door. Fredo would have just ignored it, but somehow Michael could tell it was his wife by the cadence and strength of the knock. Or he just didn't want to keep whoever the fuck it was waiting. Not that anyone should have known he was there, though.

Michael pushed Fredo off and pulled him up, not speaking the entire time. "Get dressed," he whispered, in a far more serious tone, becoming once more his Don. Fredo grabbed Michael's arm as he started to turn, making a barely perceptible sound. He couldn't bring himself to verbally ask for what he so obviously wanted, and Michael could not directly tell him no. So he leaned up to give his brother the same chaste and boring kiss he often gave him in public and whispered, "Talk to Tom," meaning many things. For one, that their step brother would get to play secretary and find an open spot for Fredo to talk with Michael alone again. And for another, to let him know, without having to specifically say, that Michael was ordering him to take care of Fredo's situation.

The two had entered this small guest room as secret and self-loathing lovers. They left as Don Corleone and his underboss.


End file.
